


Sick Of It All

by diamondgore



Category: Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Eating, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mention of sex, Texting, Unhealthy Relationships, disordered eating mention, it's there but it's not like.....there, self exploitation for the sake of art, trans character but like only briefly touched on, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 03:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondgore/pseuds/diamondgore
Summary: Warren hits up Bobby when he's back in New York City





	Sick Of It All

**Author's Note:**

> This was absolutely painful to write. I've been workshopping this fic for a while now and I think this was the best version of it. It's a little hard to follow, but I kind of wanted to leave it to the imagination of the reader to imagine the original argument between Warren and Bobby. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

When Bobby first got the text that Warren was back in town, he practically dropped his iced latte on his shirt. He wanted to drop everything else he was holding to just respond to the message. He had about thirty-two different responses drafted in his head, all of them ranged from a friendly and warm response to ripping him apart for leaving for so long. The scales were definitely tipping in the direction of ripping him apart. While he knew that Warren disappearing and cutting contact with him was an odd manifestation of a bird’s need to migrate south for the winter, it also was a symptom of both his bipolar and his relationship with Bobby.

Their last time together was pleasant enough, but it wasn’t enough to hold Warren down. Nothing ever seemed to be heavy enough to do that. It was nothing to dwell on.

[ SMS: BOBBY DRAKE 7:40 ] 

>> Nice. Do you wanna meet up?

Bobby wanted more time to respond with something poignant and meaningful but: this is Warren, and Warren read too much into everything. He was hypersensitive, hyperempathetic. He felt like he’d plunged into the deep end with that text, the most regrettable text ever sent. 

Bobby supposed if Ridiculousness still aired on MTV, this moment would definitely air. He could partially hear the entire live studio audience laugh at him with a deep belly laugh, laughing more than they had ever before. Just the thought of it made his skin burn bright red. He pushed himself from the inclined position of his office chair, which he was half balancing on its hind legs. He needed to think about the next message so that it didn’t sound so desperate and needy. 

[ SMS: BOBBY DRAKE. 7:45] 

>> Or I can throw you a surprise welcome back home party. It wouldn’t be a surprise, but you can still make that same surprised face you make when you’re looking at your tax refund. 

Yeah, that wasn’t any better. It did sound more on-brand for Bobby, but it was still a little desperate. He waited a full ten minutes before Warren texted him back. 

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥 7:50] 

>> haha.

>> very funny, I’m always surprised at my tax refunds ‘cause i dont understand how they work.

>> also no one really knows I’m back. I’m not staying for too long so I’m just meeting up with close friends.

[ SMS: BOBBY DRAKE 7:52 ] 

>> Do you want me to Hank along? That Karaoke bar in Brooklyn looks hot. We can have a couple of drinks too since I’m not working tomorrow.

Bobby knew the answer was no. If Hank knew Warren was in town, he’d tell Bobby. Hank didn’t have a thing for privacy if it came to his closest companions. But the gesture made up for how eager he was before practically pounce on Warren. 

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥7:53] 

>> no thanks.

>> I’ll see him tomorrow night. 

>> I’ll send u the address to my hotel, I’m not staying in my apartment. 

It was going to be that kind of meeting. No friends. private. Intimate. Bobby knew what happened during those meetings, he knew what happened with people who were lured into that type of thing by Warren, and yet,

[ SMS: BOBBY DRAKE 8:00 ]

>> See you then.

On the other side of the phone, Warren was lounging in the ridiculously oversized bed. He had his wings spread out as he was lounging on his stomach.

He really hadn’t told anyone he was back in Manhattan, and the only reason that anyone noticed was because his psi-link with Betsy had been activated. She was surprised she had heard from him for the first time in a few months, and she had a few words for him, the main one being childish. 

Childish was probably an accurate descriptor for Warren. He wasn’t childish in a good way, like a lot of his friends who had somehow managed to keep their childlike glee with their optimism as the world kept crashing down around them. Warren wasn’t like that. His childlessness was something that was selfish and shallow, he, for the most part, didn’t know how to keep his relationships alive after a single hardship or disagreement. It was juvenile behavior, but it wasn’t like he knew how else to react.

His first reaction no matter what, was always anger, and he always let it fester inside of him for what seemed like forever. His feelings were always bigger than what he could handle, so he left the people he loved to take care of them. Sometimes it was a day or two, and other times it would be a few months. This specific occasion had lasted more than a few months. No one really knew what had happened, but everyone suspected it was related to what had happened between him and Betsy. 

Warren had messy, complicated feelings. Betsy was more to the point. 

There wasn’t really a fight as much as it was a loud exchange of words. Fighting would mean there was at least some sort of winner in the end, or some sort of understanding. Things were said that shouldn’t have been, and they both cut each other deeper than they expected to.

It didn’t help that the first person he saw after that incident was Bobby, and Bobby wanted to help in anyway he could. If anything, Warren’s messy and complicated feelings were reflected in his relationship with Bobby. But, unlike a lot of people in his life, Bobby never knew how to put his foot down. Warren ended up attaching himself too strongly to Bobby because of it. Warren was never the one to put down roots, but Bobby was so easy to grow around. He was a friend for a long time, and an almost lover for an equally obscene. Bobby was easy. Warren was not. 

Basically, that was why he hadn’t contacted anyone else but Bobby. No one else knew how to be around Warren after he had disappeared for so long. He could predict what the others would have to say about it. He knew they’d talk about how he was crazy, odd and whatever else they saw him as for taking such long breaks. It was selfish and insane reasoning but really, what else could be expected from someone as spoiled as Warren. 

Warren wasn’t sure how spoiled he was, but he knew it was enough for people to comfortably point it out. 

Being a rich kid was always something easy for Warren. He’d never had a problem with filling those social norms that they expected him to fill, but it had caused a problem in other sectors of his life. Namely, Warren usually bought his way out of problems, it didn’t happen that often since he’d passed his twenties, but it did happen enough that he’d developed a habit out of it. That didn’t work too well with relationships and it showcased how stunted Warren was in that department.

Therapy helped. Past tense. He’d started skipping appointments the last year or so. 

Warren picked up his phone and checked the time. It was still one in the afternoon and he wasn’t sure what he would do in the time that he’d waited for Bobby. 

Shower? But he had already done that the moment he stepped into the hotel room. Evidence of it could be seen in the towels scattered around the room. He needed a couple of towels to drape over his wings while they dried. 

Get ready? While Warren was high maintenance, it didn’t seem like four hours were needed to actually get ready for Bobby. 

Eat? Sure, that was an option. But he was seeing Bobby, and he wasn’t interested in the awkward way his stomach bloated when he ate. He already had a protein bar when he had arrived that morning, so it would be a waste to mindlessly eat while waiting for him. 

So, nothing. That was what he would be doing for the rest of the day. He would probably binge watch whatever show was rerunning during the morning. He’d flip through the channels aimlessly before going back to his phone and tapping away at some mindless game. It got boring in the last two hours. 

He thought about Bobby, the last time they were in contact with each other. They had exchanged a few emails and texts over the past six months, but Warren couldn’t bring himself to push contact even more. There was shame and guilt that came with being needy for attention. He would rather live in complete isolation than feel like he was taking up too much space in someone’s life without their permission. 

Warren didn’t want to double text because it was ugly and clingy, and he would come off as someone who fell too hard and too quickly, but he looked at his phone, which he’d thrown in a fit of absolute rage, lying at the edge of the bed. He lazily reached out with his foot and pulled it towards himself. 

He’ll double text. He hated himself for feeling like he always had too much too say via the small grey bubbles that popped up on Bobby’s screen. He always felt like he hadn’t said enough, and he’d fill the emptiness of a meaningless conversation with more bullshit about this or that. He’d keep it simple. 

[ SMS: Warren Worthington III 1:20 ] 

>> Can u bring some wine w you? The menu here is awful. 

>> I’ll pay you. 

[ SMS: Slushy 1:35] 

>>Sure.

>> Orange wine? I can pick up an Ageno Emilia. 

>> Anything else, princess? 

It was a joke. Warren knew that much, but he can still feel the air escape from his tightly clenched teeth. He couldn’t say he didn’t walk into that one. Bobby had been using that nickname for him for what seemed like an eternity. 

[ SMS: Warren Worthington III 1:36 ] 

>> sounds good. 

>> do u want me to pay you in personal checks?

[ SMS: Slushy 2:00 ]

>> I’d prefer it in cash.

>> preferably exact change? 

Bobby put his phone down and got back to looking through the bank statements of his clientele. He flipped it over so that he wouldn’t get distracted by his notifications. He would power through the last few hours of his workday, while the phone would continue buzzing.

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥2:01 ] 

>> thank you u r the best. 

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥3:30 ] 

>> i just watched three hrs of say yes to the dress. 

>> half of the dresses on there r ugly. 

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥4:05 ] 

>> u know how many tiles r on the ceiling of this bedroom?

>> 208. Weird number. Think they chose it?

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥4:45 ] 

>> pulled off all the gel nail polish. it kinda hurt. Lol

[ SMS: WARREN 🐥5:05 ]

>> i hate being by myself for so long. 

Bobby was not surprised at the last text. He swiped away all the notifications, before he left his office, because he couldn’t take thinking about Warren while he was out shopping for wine. If he left Warren on read, he would never hear the end of it. 

He wasn’t sure how to get ready. There was no dress code for something like this. Bobby looked through his closet and realized that there was nothing he would wear that wouldn’t end up either torn or on the ground the minute he stepped into that hotel room. He decided for the safest route of a t-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t meeting the president, and the last time he did meet the president he was wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts that doubled as his uniform. 

He grabbed his backpack and shoved the wine he had bought on his way home. He didn’t pick up the cheapest bottle of Warren was the one who was footing the bill. He had the receipt somewhere in the front pocket of his bag. He’d think about being paid back later, it was twelve dollars and eighty-nine cents. Right now, the more pressing issue on his mind was Warren. What happened since they last met up? They didn’t quite leave each other on a good note. 

He thought about it for a moment, what would happen if he just made a last minute excuse and decided not to show up? Warren wouldn’t mind right?

No, he wasn’t going to do that. He was just going to get on the subway and then go to Warren’s hotel room. They were going to have fun tonight and Bobby was going to leave all the baggage back home. This was going to be a fun evening. 

Bobby couldn’t quite get himself to believe in the statement. There was a feeling in his gut, in the back of his throat, that something was going to go wrong, but not because of him. It was because Warren was Warren, and he had a habit of messing things up, even when he didn’t want to. His words were always so crass and careless, being thrown around like the cash he burnt through. 

He wondered, if only briefly, if that was what happened with Betsy. 

The hotel was one he was familiar with. He, Hank and Warren had a lot of fun in that hotel, including the one time they had completely trashed the penthouse in a post-Defenders success party. It was lavish and expensive, and the receptionist knew Bobby a little too well, which made him feel more like a call girl than anything else. It wasn’t exactly his fault Warren took bought an apartment with Betsy. 

Bobby knocked on the door, holding his breath. He held the backpack tightly. He heard Warren rummaging on the inside before he opened the door. 

It took less than a second. Bobby put his hands on Warren’s face squishing it lightly, and before Warren had even a chance to say ‘hello’, Bobby had planted a kiss on top of Warren’s mouth. Warren softly returned the kiss and pulled Bobby into the room. For a brief moment Bobby thought about breaking their kiss, but remembered that if he stopped Warren might open up topics that he wasn’t ready to talk about. Bobby so desperately wanted at least part of the night to go well, if he could keep Warren quiet long enough, maybe he’d escape the Doomsday Situation of talking about what happened last time they met up. 

“That’s a new way to say hi,” Warren breathed, when Bobby gave him the brief moment to speak. “I’m not complaining though.” 

Bobby dropped his backpack and then shut the door behind him. “ I’ve been trying out new greetings lately.” 

“Seems like Hell’s Kitchen is treating you well if this is how you’re being greeted.” Warren closed his eyes and nuzzled Bobby’s neck. 

Bobby wanted to make a joke, something about how sex was the gay first base. But that would probably lead Warren to want to learn more about his new found life. No jokes, no self deprecation. He only needed to focus on Warren’s lips. Warren was unusually sweet and gentle, today, and Bobby wanted to reciprocate the feeling, but just to make sure, 

“Do you want me to be rough?” Bobby asked, somewhat leading Warren to the bed. 

Warren mused, as he laid down on the bed. He was careful getting on his back, trying to tuck his wings in carefully. They always wanted to get in the way, and Bobby loved touching them, feeling them up, worshiping them, all that kind of stuff. It drove Warren insane. 

“Do whatever you like, I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Bobby went for the wings first, as he always did, slowly stroking the feathers. He was gentle with them, his fingers feeling the edges first. He traced the bones underneath the feathers, softly. He got up on Warren, straddling with his boots and jeans still on. He focused on one wing first, kissing the edges of it, feeling Warren squirm underneath the touch. Warren moved his legs underneath Bobby, but had a limited range of movement. 

“Do you like that?” Bobby asked. 

Warren let out a small lewd sound. “Yeah...”

Warren looked at Bobby with a soft smile, and his hazy maple-colored eyes. “You’re gonna go down on me, right?” 

“Of course.” 

Sex was simple, and quick. The only good thing about them being quick was how many times they could go at it before exhausting themselves. It was something that happened more so like clockwork than a show of vulnerability and intimacy. Warren still cried, he cried multiple times but it was from pleasure and not due to pain. Bobby still didn’t know how to deal with it, so he ignored it for the most part. Every now and again Warren had to stop to sob for a little bit, and it was weird. Bobby never tried, and honestly never wanted to bring it up. 

It ended with Bobby lying at the foot of the bed, on his stomach across from Warren. Warren was uncharacteristically lying on his back and smiling, with tears drying on his face, perhaps he was just a little bit dazed from the whole thing. Warren hardly smiled, ever since they met he had a resting bitch face.

Warren felt good, that little loneliness that he felt seemed suppressed enough for the time being. Perhaps friendly company was all he really needed, even though he and Bobby didn’t really talk much. 

Warren wanted to kiss Bobby, or something like that.

“That was good. It’s nice being with you.” It was awkward to say, but he really couldn’t find the right words to thank Warren. He rarely made small talk after having sex. It was easier for him to leave that way. But, Bobby thought he could fall asleep next to Warren if he wanted to.

Bobby hated admitting that sex with Warren was always great. No other guy had really met up to the expectations that Warren had set. Warren knew his body a little too well. He wouldn’t tell anyone that, of course. However, Everyone knew there was something going on between them because Warren had always been a little more flirty talking to Bobby than other people, almost all of them knew it wasn’t because he started making better jokes.

They always had a messy, complicated relationship. In the beginning it was because Bobby was afraid of being gay. When he had kissed Warren to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay, he really didn’t count on Warren kissing him back and telling him that his eyes were like shining amber. Bobby couldn’t bring himself to be honest with himself, much to Warren’s dismay. So it never went past kissing practice in the bathroom of the Xavier school.

Then Candy came into the picture, and died, followed by Betsy who promptly died after a year of being with Warren. Bobby ended up having to fill all these little gaps of time where Warren wasn’t with someone, at the very least wasn’t with someone in the official sense. They had a discounted romance behind the scenes, and it lingered on and off. 

It never really went away. 

That was one of the reasons Betsy and Warren had the fight. Warren couldn’t contain his feelings for people he’d previously loved, and Betsy was not a jealous woman, but she couldn’t handle fighting for his attention so often. Bobby should have probably put his foot down at some point.

Bobby took Warren’s hand and looked at the scratched up fingernails. “What color were they?”

Warren gave him a perplexed look for a moment. “My nails?”

“Yeah, you peeled them off. What color were they?”

“Chartreuse.” Warren said with a hint of melancholy. “It’s your favorite right?”

Bobby nodded, and examined Warren’s hand a little further. He ran his thumb up and down the palm of his friend. It elicited and odd reaction from Warren, he quickly jerked his hand away from Bobby’s. It was too close for comfort, even though they’d been touching skin for a lot longer. Bobby looked ashamed. Warren bolted out of bed.

“I’m going to shower. Do you want something to eat maybe?”

Bobby tilted his head. “Room service?” 

“Yeah, order whatever you want and charge it to the room.” It was Warren’s way of saying he was hungry but didn’t want to eat. 

Bobby sat up and looked around for the menu, before looking up at Warren. “You want anything?”

“I’m fine.” Without saying anything else, Warren walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Bobby wondered if his wings would fit. 

He took his attention off Warren and focused more on the problem at hand, ordering something. Bobby was hungry, considering he’d skipped lunch to do more work. Warren was hungry too. Bobby saw the lack of take-out and nut wrappers that he usually had in his hotel room. Warren had a thing against eating alone. He would only do it if necessary, eating was a social event, not something you do alone. It was probably part of his upbringing. Or something. Warren mentioned once how he wasn’t very popular in high school, even though everyone refused to believe it. He mentioned that he used to eat lunch in the bathroom, by himself or with the janitor. Bobby and Hank laughed so hard they cried that night. Warren looked a little bit hurt, but he laughed it off too. 

Bobby should apologize. It happened a decade ago. 

The menu looked a little bit daunting and endless. It was at least ten pages long, with a separate menu for lunches, and another for desserts. Apparently, the lavender cheesecake here was to die for. Bobby would ask if they had an extra piece lying around. 

He looked through the dessert menu first, picking out two different cakes, making sure they were all a la mode. Bobby would ask for the ice cream on the side so he could eat it all himself. Warren didn’t like mushy cake, but the ice cream was free and Bobby enjoyed it. 

Warren picked at food when he was with Bobby, like a bird picking worms from the ground. He would pick at the French fries that Bobby would order, and the mushroom steak, and the grilled salmon and the cheese plate. 

It seemed like a lot of food, but Bobby made a quick prayer that he wouldn’t waste any of it. He didn’t wait for Warren to finish showering before ordering. He called up room service and read items off the menu. He added a bottle of sparkling water, to the order. Once he was finished, he turned on the tv and flipped through the premium channels, before settling on an old drama movie he watched a while back. He wasn’t really paying attention to it. 

Warren’s shower didn’t take that long, it was drying himself that took a lot longer. He hadn’t been good with preening his wings, so they weren’t covered in the oil that kept them waterproof. His feathers were still nice and fluffy, but they were breaking a lot easier than he liked. It was usually an indicator of disease in birds, but Warren never really thought of himself as one. 

Not bothering to dress himself, he walked out of the bathroom, and then plopped himself down on the couch across the bed. 

Turning his body slightly, Bobby opened up a new conversation that was veering a little too close to the topics he wanted to avoid. “You make me feel like a high-end call girl sometimes, with all these hotel meetings.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Warren wanted to talk but held back. He didn’t want to scare Bobby like he usually did. Bobby always required some degree of pussyfooting. Just one degree removed from the conversation. 

They sit a little, with the TV in the background. Bobby was still not paying attention to the movie. They didn’t really exchange words. They just silently had a conversation. 

“I think the sneaking around is hot.” Warren said, finally contributing something to the atmosphere. “I mean I don’t know if you like it or not.”

“Neutral on it. If we weren’t sneaking around we’d be having pizza on my bedroom floor in Long Island. Instead we’re having grilled salmon,”

“You ordered the salmon?”

“Yes.” Bobby didn’t bring up the fact that it was one of Warren’s favorite things to eat. Bobby gave Warren the short answers this conversation required. 

It continues for a while longer, the atmospheric chatter. They were awkwardly dancing around the subject of Warren’s disappearance and where they stood in their relationship. Bobby was seeing other people, casually. Was Warren also doing that? Or would he lie for the sake of evening out the playing field?

Eventually, there’s a knock on the door. Neither of them got dressed, and Warren for sure wasn’t going to answer the door with both of his wings unbound ; so Bobby answered it. Warren hid in the bathroom and Bobby took forty dollars in cash from Warren’s hand wallet to tip the waiter. He just wrapped himself in a sheet, and opened the door.

The waiter was surprised when he saw Bobby, something akin to being starstruck. He immediately recognized him as Iceman. Bobby found the situation awkward but endearing. The waiter was much younger than Bobby, somewhere in his early twenties. He kept asking questions while setting up the table, and Bobby kept answering them. 

“You’re gonna eat this yourself?” The waiter asked, as he put parked the large cart to the side of the room. “It’s a lot of food.”

“My boyfriend’s joining me.” Bobby said.

“Oh, he must be so lucky.” The waiter smiled. “I hope you two have a good night.”

Bobby took the waiter’s hand and placed the cash in it. “I hope you have a good night, too.”

Once the waiter left, Warren exited the bathroom. He had listened in on the conversation between Bobby and his fanboy. Sometime in between the waiter leaving and Warren leaving the bathroom, Warren had put on a pair of underwear. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“On the tabloids, we’re dating. Sometimes.” 

“I don’t like being called boyfriend.” 

Bobby’s heat sank the bottom of his chest. Something about it hurt. “Which would you prefer then: Girlfriend? Significant other? Husband? Spouse? Fling? Prince Charming?”

“I don’t know. It just feels uncomfortable when people assume I’m a boy.”

“But you  _ are _ one?” 

“Only on occasion. However, I do like being called fling, it seems charming.” It was something that was fleeting and only half certain, like Warren’s feelings. 

Then, Warren walked to the table, and then took a seat on the right side. He immediately began picking at the grapes. This gave Bobby sometime, to grab the wine from his backpack and returned to sit at the table.

“Oh, you actually bought the wine. I thought you forgot.” 

“In my defense, I was too busy kissing you. I wasn’t going to ruin the moment.” Bobby unscrewed the top of the wine, and then poured a little bit into each of their glasses. He took the glass and raised it slightly, “Just like old times?” 

“Mhm.” Warren nodded and clinked his glass with Bobby, before taking a sip of the wine. He gazed at the spread of food in front of them, and grabbed his fork, and began picking off mushrooms from the steak. Bobby smiled, and then began eating, starting with some of the cheeses from the plate. 

It was silent as they ate. It usually was. Warren picked at the food, never really taking big bites of anything, while Bobby ate slowly and actually enjoyed the food. Bobby ate the steak and most of the salmon, while Warren ended up eating the vegetables and cheeses. 

Their conversation started up again once they got to dessert. Bobby ate the ice cream first, and then tried out the cakes with Warren. Warren playfully fed Bobby a piece of cake every now and again, especially when he felt a bad joke was coming up. 

“Uncalled for, Wings.” Bobby said, through a mouthful of cake. 

“Please, I would rather not hear your jokes. Plus the cake is good.” Warren smiled, and then fed Bobby another mouthful of cake. Warren looked down at the empty plate, once Bobby swallowed. “Hey, Bobby can I ask you something?” 

Bobby looked at the now half empty wine bottle. He’d drank most of it, which was good for numbing his senses, and letting his guard down slightly. He didn’t want to look Warren in the eye, because he was now using his serious voice. “Sure.”

“Why’d you come here, after what happened last time?” 

Bobby didn’t look up. He obviously didn’t have a good answer. He called Warren crazy, but he was crazy too for expecting tonight to go any different than every other time they were together. 

“You asked me to come. I came. We’re friends, I’d do it for Hank and Jean even if we had a bad fight.” 

“I know but we used to be…” 

“ _ Don’t _ . We’re having such a good time, Warren. I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“We argued, and it was bad. And I know you said---”

“I forgive you. You forgive me. Warren, please just leave it in the past.” 

Warren scrunched his nose. He sat up and stared at Bobby who was staring at the ground with biting his lips, pulling at dead skin. That was the least of Warren’s concern at the moment. “I want to talk about it.” His tone was firm, weepy and angry. 

“And I, frankly, don’t.” Bobby’s equally angry. He wasn’t hot headed, Warren was. But G-ddamn---the last time they were together had pissed him off and cut him so deeply he never wanted to talk about it again. They mentioned it once in an email, that they’d both let it go, but Warren never let sleeping dogs lie. 

“You always bottling up your emotions, and it’s not healthy.” Warren explained, there was a bitterness at the back of his tongue. “I hurt you.”

“We broke up.” For the tenth time or something, “and you got mad. That’s a natural reaction.”

Bobby took a deep breath, locked his gaze on Warren. “Besides, Warren, I’m seeing other people. If I was still mad at you, I wouldn’t have come.”

It was a calculated move, somewhat. There are tears forming at the edges of Warren’s eyes. “Y-You’re seeing other people?” He asked it, as if they weren’t broken up for months. 

“Yes,” Bobby responded. “Warren, I’m not going to wait for you forever. I can’t wait forever for you to be healed of the darkness inside you, that’s what you keep saying is keeping us apart, but you’ve never said that to Candy and Betsy. I do love you and all, but we have to be realistic.” 

Bobby then sighed, when Warren didn’t reply, “You are always so unfair to me when you bring this up. It’s always the same conversation, every time we break up.”

Warren choked back a sad sob, and Bobby’s stomach twisted violently. It felt awful to tell Warren the truth, but it was better now that it was out in the open. He had to be honest with Warren, right? He saw Warren digging his nails into his tanned skin. He knew what was coming next, and instead of facing it, and having to hear Warren cry and argue, Bobby got up, and began getting dressed. 

“I’m, I’m sorry, Warren.” 

Warren couldn’t do anything about it. He watched from the corner of his eye as Bobby put on his shirt and his pants. Bobby didn’t take his time, he did everything quickly and haphazardly. He picked up his backpack, and secured it on his shoulders. Warren usually had something to say to him, something mean and cruel and horrible, but it seemed like today was going to be the first time where he managed to shut down, and Bobby felt horrible about it. 

“Warren?” He just wanted to make sure that Warren could at least hear him. 

“Please leave.” Warren pressed his fists to his eyes an attempt to wipe the tears off of his face. “I am going to throw a plate at you, otherwise.” 

Warren felt like he was choking on his own words. He couldn’t do anything about how Bobby felt, and perhaps it was for the best. He had never seen himself as cruel when he was talking to Bobby, but maybe he didn’t notice because he was so self absorbed and childish. Bobby shuffled his feet for a moment, trying to decide whether he should stay and comfort Warren or leave. He knew how Warren got when he was angry, he’d seen enough of that on the battlefield. 

“I’m not joking about the plate.” Warren repeated himself, and looked at Bobby with an angry look on his face. “ _ Leave _ .” 

It was so easy for every emotion he felt, hurt, sadness, and regret to be transformed into anger. Bobby knew this and wouldn’t take the chance on him, so he just left silently, leaving Warren by himself at the hotel room. There was a feeling of lingering regret that was left behind him, in that hotel room, and Bobby wished he’d said more. He wished there was a way for him and Warren to able to work through it, the weird tangled web that they had created for each other, but there was no-way it would happen in the immediate future.

Warren was left alone in the hotel now. It was a mess, from all the activity that the evening had. Warren was still angry, and upset, he’d sank nails into the flesh of his arms and legs so deeply they drew blood. He stacked all the plates on top of the carts, and pulled the sheets off the ground, throwing them onto the bed. Before lying down in his makeshift nest, Warren picked up his phone from the coffee table. He thought about the argument he had with Bobby the time before this one, how he had followed Bobby into the hallway screaming and yelling. He’d said some cruel things after that break up, and Bobby was just trying to keep his cool. He hurt Bobby, and he knew this, but could never find a way to apologize. 

Maybe they were just not meant to work. The thought made Warren wipe a few tears away from his face, and then sob. He didn’t want to exist in a world where he and Bobby were not lovers, it would just be too cruel.  Once he knew how to do it, he’d call Bobby. He’d say he was sorry, and then they’d be happy with each other, or at least able to talk to each other without bringing up painful memories. But for now, he could just sit alone, in an empty large bed, crying, and curling up inside his feathered wings. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sophiecuckoos) & [tumblr](https://eiminworthington.tumblr.com/)!


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